On a crisp November morning in Raleigh, North Carolina, the city pulsed with anticipation.
Children lined the sidewalks wrapped in scarves and mittens, their eyes shining as they waited for the annual Christmas Parade to begin.
The air was filled with the scent of popcorn and peppermint.
Music echoed from marching bands, and confetti swirled through the air like snowflakes of celebration.
Among the dancers preparing to perform was 11-year-old
Hailey Kaye Brooks, a bright, kind-hearted girl whose joy for dance lit up every stage she touched.
Hailey wasn’t just a dancer — she was a beam of light.
Her laughter was infectious, her hugs sincere, and her energy boundless.
Those who knew her often said she had a gift for making people feel loved — really loved — as if kindness was woven into her very being.
That morning, Hailey was radiant.
Her long ponytail bounced as she laughed with her teammates from CC & Co. Dance Complex, a dance studio known for its talented students and family-like spirit.
They were performing a routine they had practiced for weeks — a joyful dance to celebrate the holidays, full of spins, jumps, and pure happiness.
Parents stood proudly on the sidewalks, cameras ready.
The parade moved slowly down Hillsborough Street, each float carrying its own slice of Christmas magic — Santa hats, sparkling tinsel, reindeer cutouts, and children waving at the crowd.
For Hailey, it was one of her favorite days of the year.
She had danced in parades before, but this one felt special — bigger, brighter, more magical.
She smiled so wide it seemed to light up the cloudy morning.
And then, in a heartbeat, everything changed.
A pickup truck that was pulling one of the floats suddenly lost control.
The driver shouted that the brakes weren’t working.
Panic rippled through the crowd as people screamed and tried to move aside.
In the chaos, the truck hit Hailey.
The music stopped.
The laughter stopped.
The world — for one terrible, breathless moment — stood still.
Paramedics rushed forward.
Parents held their children close, their hearts breaking as sirens wailed.
And there, amidst the lights and decorations of a holiday morning, tragedy cast its shadow.
Hailey Kaye Brooks, the girl whose joy had filled every corner of the parade, was gone.
The city fell silent.
News spread quickly — through homes, schools, and the dance community that had loved her so deeply.
A day meant for celebration had turned into mourning.
But even in the darkest moments, something extraordinary began to happen.
People remembered Hailey’s light.
They spoke about how she always noticed the quiet kids, how she invited new dancers to join her at lunch, how she once spent her birthday collecting toys for a local shelter instead of asking for gifts.
Her teachers remembered her as creative and full of ideas — always the first to volunteer, always the first to smile.
Her friends called her their sunshine.
And her parents, April and Trey Brooks, were left holding memories too precious and too painful to put into words.
In the weeks after the tragedy, their home overflowed with flowers, cards, and letters.
People from across the country reached out — dancers, parents, strangers — all touched by Hailey’s story.
At first, April and Trey could barely speak.
Their hearts were shattered.
But amid the grief, they found a quiet resolve.
Hailey’s story, they realized, couldn’t end here.
Her light was too powerful to fade.
So they decided to let it shine — forever.
In 2023, they created The Shine Like Hailey Foundation, a nonprofit dedicated to spreading kindness, supporting young dancers, and making parades safer for everyone.
The name came naturally.
“Hailey always told her friends to ‘shine bright,’” her mom recalled. “She wanted everyone to feel special.”
Through the foundation, April and Trey began offering dance scholarships to children who dreamed of dancing but couldn’t afford lessons.
They partnered with schools and youth programs to teach kindness — real, active kindness — the kind that makes a difference in everyday life.
They started “Shine Days,” where communities would come together to perform acts of love in Hailey’s honor: visiting nursing homes, feeding the hungry, helping shelters, writing letters of encouragement to hospital patients.
And they didn’t stop there.
Hailey’s parents also worked with city officials to push for parade safety reforms — stronger rules for vehicle maintenance, stricter supervision, and better emergency training — so that no family would ever have to experience the same heartbreak again.
Each year, on November 19th, friends and family gather to celebrate Hailey’s life.
They wear her favorite color — yellow — and release balloons into the sky.
They share stories, photos, laughter, and tears.
They dance, just as she loved to do.
Because Hailey’s story is not just one of tragedy — it is one of love, resilience, and the incredible power of light to endure even after darkness.
In every child who receives a scholarship, Hailey dances again.
In every act of kindness, she smiles again.
In every effort to make the world safer and kinder, her spirit shines brighter.
One mother who attended a Shine Day event later wrote, “My daughter didn’t know Hailey, but after hearing her story, she spent all weekend baking cookies to deliver to our neighbors. She said, ‘I just want to make someone smile like Hailey would have.’”
That’s what her parents wanted — not for the world to remember the accident, but to remember the love.
They often say that Hailey lived eleven beautiful years — years that continue to echo in every good deed inspired by her name.
Her room remains much the same as it was that morning — her dance shoes neatly placed by the bed, her drawings taped to the wall, her favorite stuffed animal waiting.
Sometimes, April sits there quietly, sunlight streaming through the window, and she swears she can still hear her daughter humming.
When she closes her eyes, she imagines Hailey dancing — spinning, leaping, twirling under a sky full of light.
Not gone.
Just shining somewhere else.